


Too Much To Bear

by bethylated_spirits



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Arthur is a Good Bro, Depressed Merlin, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I don't know what else to tag, I was projecting when I wrote this lol, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Merlin is Not Okay, Poor Merlin, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Gwaine, Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts, gwaine is a good bro, hopefully?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-07-20 02:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethylated_spirits/pseuds/bethylated_spirits
Summary: Far below him, the citadel was alive with movement. But where Merlin sat, leaning against the parapet at the very top of the castle, the silence was broken only by the ragged breaths shuddering in and out of his lungs.Merlin is overwhelmed and struggling to cope with the weight of his responsibilities and the secrets he is forced to keep. Gwaine and Arthur are worried about their friend and try their best to help save him from himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter deals with suicidal ideation, anxiety and depression. Please don’t read if you feel that this could be upsetting or triggering for you. Your health is more important than any story I could write!

The tremor in his hands, which had been occurring more and more frequently lately, had intensified. Now his entire body was shaking as he curled in on himself, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his legs as though he could physically hold himself together. His breaths were fast and shallow, and his eyes were squeezed tightly closed, blocking from view a world in which he didn’t belong and never would.

He tried to steady his breathing, breathing in for four counts and out for six, but it felt as though there was a brick sitting on his chest, making it almost impossible to fill his lungs. Far below him, the citadel was alive with movement as knights, villagers, servants and the occasional noble carried out their various errands. But where Merlin sat, leaning against the parapet at the very top of the castle, the silence was broken only by the ragged breaths shuddering in and out of his lungs.

Footsteps sounded a short distance away and the warlock stiffened, hugging his knees even more closely to his body and holding his breath as he shrank back against the stone, hoping not to be noticed.

“Merlin”, a voice said softly, and in the next moment the knight had knelt beside him, a strong hand resting comfortingly on his bony shoulder. Merlin resolutely kept his face buried between his knees, not wanting to see the concern in his friend’s face or to have any witness to his own pain.

“What’s wrong? Please, Merlin, let me help”, Gwaine implored him. The servant shook his head.

“Merlin.” Gwaine reached across, gently taking one of his friend’s hands in his own. Merlin finally raised his head, revealing a tear-streaked face and red, swollen eyes.

“What happened?” Gwaine asked, his heart aching at the raw pain in his friend’s eyes. Merlin shook his head once more, his entire body shaking uncontrollably.

“I can’t do it anymore”, he choked out. “I _c-can’t_.”

Gwaine wrapped the warlock in a tight embrace, feeling the younger man’s thin frame shudder against his chest. Merlin’s breath hitched, and Gwaine froze in shock as his friend gasped out:

“I d-d- I don’t want to be alive.”

“No”, Gwaine whispered, squeezing Merlin even tighter as though he could bodily protect him from the demons inside his mind. “ _No_ , Merlin, don’t say that.”

“ _I can’t do it_!” Merlin burst out, burying his head between his knees once more. “It’s too hard.”

“What’s too hard?” Gwaine asked gently, rubbing his hand in small circles over the servant’s back. Merlin shook his head hopelessly, gasping in short breaths of air as tremors continued to wrack his body.

“Ev- everything. Everything’s just… h-h-helping Gaius, p-protecting Arthur…”

“Protecting him – with magic, you mean?” Gwaine asked softly.

The warlock jerked upright, his reddened eyes widening in shock.

“What – h-how did you –”

“I’ve suspected it for a while, to be perfectly honest with you”, Gwaine confessed. “I haven’t told anyone, and I’m not going to. I swear to you, I’m not going to. But I’m sure it must be hard, to take on that responsibility. You fight for him just as much as we do – but you can’t let him know it.”

Merlin huffed out a shaky breath, his posture slumping once more.

“I t-tried – I _tried_ to –” he trailed off, biting his lip. Another tear slipped down his cheek. Gwaine inhaled shakily, trying to remain strong for his friend, even as he felt his heart breaking with the revelation of how deep Merlin had sunk into his depression without any of them noticing. Merlin was the light of their group – the person who could bring joy and laughter to almost any situation, who ungrudgingly allowed them to make him the butt of their jokes, who rode out into dangerous situations clad only in a threadbare jacket and trousers, and who _never_ – no matter how dire the situation seemed – gave up hope. Seeing his friend now, so completely devoid of hope, hurt the knight almost to the point of physical pain. _How_ had he not seen how badly his friend was struggling? How had he and the others allowed the situation to get this bad?

“Merlin…” Gwaine trailed off helplessly, gazing at his friend in despair. Merlin was visibly shaking, his head bowed as though he were ashamed to be seen in pain.

“I’m sorry”, the knight said softly, carefully brushing a tear from the other man’s cheek. “I’m so sorry that you’re feeling like this. I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier.” Merlin shook his head, not meeting his friend’s eye.

“But it _will_ get better”, Gwaine assured him, his voice catching slightly. As a knight, he had found himself in many dangerous situations, and had witnessed a great deal of pain – both physical and emotional. But this was different. This was _Merlin_ , one of his closest friends and the most selfless person Gwaine had ever known.

The warlock looked up at him, red-rimmed eyes peering forlornly out over sunken cheeks.

“How?” he whispered. “How will it ever get better, Gwaine?”

Gwaine didn’t know how to answer that. All he could do was hold his friend close and promise that somehow, someday, life would be more bearable.

“It will be okay”, he whispered into Merlin’s hair. “It will be okay. I’m here for you.”

Merlin clung to his friend, unable to hold in the sobs that rose up in his throat, choking him. But as Gwaine wrapped his strong arms around him, for the first time in a long time, Merlin felt protected. The brick on his chest lightened a little, and he gradually found himself able to breathe more easily. Everything still wasn’t okay – not by a long shot – but he found himself believing that perhaps, someday, it would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine goes to talk to Arthur about Merlin's poor mental health status.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: includes mentions of suicidal ideation.

"Enter." The King’s voice issued from the other side of the door.

Gwaine took a breath, then pushed open the heavy oak door and walked into the expansive chambers.

Arthur glanced up from his desk, where he had been reading tax reports. An expression of surprise flickered across his face when he saw Gwaine; as far as he could remember the knight had never knocked before entering his chambers, preferring to simply barge in unannounced.

"Gwaine.” He greeted him abstractedly, scribbling a note on one of the reports. "Shouldn't you be at the training session?"

"I need to talk to you.” Gwaine’s expression was sombre, no hint of a smile in his deep brown eyes. Arthur straightened, setting his papers aside. Seeing the usually jovial knight so serious was rare, and he knew better than to dismiss whatever Gwaine had come to say.

"Go ahead, then."

"Uh… is Merlin here?" the knight asked, looking around Arthur's chambers.

"He's helping Gaius", Arthur replied, his forehead creasing in confusion. "But you know that anything you say to me can be said in front of Merlin."

Gwaine shook his head, his expression grim. "Not this", he said quietly.

Arthur placed his forearms on the desk, leaning forwards.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "What's so important that you need to miss training to tell me? Or that you don't trust Merlin to hear?"

"It’s not that I don’t trust him, Arthur – it's about him!" the words burst from the knight, almost unwillingly, but they were out in the open now. He hated that he had to do this – hated to even _think_ of Merlin as other than the happy, loyal servant they all saw him as – but seeing his friend so broken, longing for death, had hurt him deeply. He cared for Merlin, and he was terrified at the thought of losing his friend.

"What about him?" Arthur asked, his voice low and urgent. Gwaine wondered whether the king had seen the change in their friend. He was closer to Merlin than any of them; surely he had noticed some difference in his behaviour. And if he _had_ noticed, it was no wonder that his first reaction was one of concern – Merlin may have been Arthur's manservant, but Arthur had almost given up pretending that this was all there was to their relationship. Anyone close to the king knew that he trusted the servant more than anyone else.

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't seem to find the words. Arthur watched him expectantly, clear blue eyes focussed unwaveringly on the knight standing before him.

"He… erm… sorry, could we sit?" Gwaine asked abruptly, needing a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Of course." The king stood quickly, leading the way to the polished mahogany table and taking his usual place at its head. Gwaine followed more slowly, sinking down into the chair by Arthur's left hand.

"Uh…" he looked down at his hands, clasped tightly together, then back up at the king. "Have you noticed anything different about Merlin lately?"

Arthur bit his lip, considering the question. "He's been quieter", he said finally. "Definitely not as chatty as usual. But he gets that way sometimes… he's usually back to normal after a few days."

Was that what Gwaine was asking? Was this the reason he had not wanted the servant present while he talked with Arthur? He knew none of those close to him would ever suspect Merlin of being a traitor – he had been at Arthur's side for too long, had risked his life far too many times to leave even a shadow of a doubt as to his loyalty to Arthur. Sometimes even Arthur wondered what he had done to deserve that loyalty, but Merlin's belief in him far surpassed his own, and had done so for many years now. So the only reason Gwaine would be talking to him about Merlin must be that he had noticed the servant's recent melancholy. Arthur had noticed too, of course, but Merlin's ridiculous insults and the big, stupid grin which popped up any time the king tried to ask him how he was going had mostly succeeded in dispelling any worry he felt. Besides, as he had told Gwaine, Merlin was generally back to normal after a few days of these moods. Although, he realised, it had now been several weeks since he had first noticed his manservant's lack of chatter, and the sadness lurking in those deep blue eyes which he tried so hard to conceal.

Gwaine leaned forward.

"He's not okay", he said in a low voice. "He wouldn't want to worry you, or anyone, by saying something. But he's struggling, and I don't know how to help him."

Arthur drew back, his brow furrowed in concern and confusion. Sure, Merlin had been quiet lately. But he was alright… wasn't he?

"What do you mean? What's happened to him?" he demanded. In his worry for his friend, his voice came out more harshly than he had intended, but Gwaine didn't flinch.

"He's… having a rough time", the knight said carefully, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen into his face. "It's been going on for a fair while, I'd say. You know he always _says_ that he's fine, but… he's not, Arthur. He's really not."

"But why…" Arthur murmured. He shook his head as if to clear it, the tried again. "Why wouldn't he have said something? Surely he knows he can trust me!"

Gwaine offered up a sad smile, recognising the hurt in his king's eyes. He had felt it too, when he realised that one of his closest friends had been keeping things from him – but he understood now that Merlin did not keep secrets due to a lack of trust. He kept them, partly to protect his own life (and honestly, it killed Gwaine that his friend could be put to death for _saving people's lives_ just because he used magic to do it), but mostly to protect those he cared about. He didn't want them to be left without his protection if he were killed for being a sorcerer, and he didn't want them to be upset or concerned by how little regard he held for his own safety, for his own _life_.

"It's not about trust", he told Arthur quietly. "Merlin trusts you with his life. But he wouldn't want to – to burden you, by telling you what he was going through. He was trying to protect you, to protect us… as usual."

"But he could have _come_ to me", Arthur insisted. "It's not as though he didn't have the opportunity – we're with each other every day!" He fell silent. Gwaine, reluctant to tell the king what he knew he had to, did not speak. He was delaying an inevitable conversation, and he inwardly berated himself for his cowardice, but he could not bring himself to shatter Arthur with the revelation of just how deep Merlin had sunken into this depression. He thought now he could understand, at least a little, why Merlin had felt like he couldn't come to any of them with his problems. He could bear his own pain, but he couldn't bear to inflict pain on those he cared about.

Arthur's voice broke the silence. "How did you – did he come to you?" he asked quietly.

Gwaine shook his head, recognising the unspoken appeal behind the king's question – _did he come to you and not me?_

"I found him the other day, up near the battlements. He was… in a bad way."

"What do you mean?" Arthur interrupted, no longer making any pretence at hiding his concern for his friend. "Gwaine, for God’s sake just _tell_ me already."

Gwaine bit his lip, mentally preparing himself for what he had to tell the king. He wished more than anything that he had never needed to have this conversation. But Merlin was clearly falling into a very dark place, and Gwaine couldn't pull him back by himself. Maybe his friend would resent him for telling Arthur, but an angry Merlin was infinitely better than a dead one.

"He was very upset", he said slowly. "He… Arthur, there's no easy way to say this – I wish I didn't have to – but he needs our help. He said… he said that he didn't want to be alive…" Gwaine confessed, looking up to meet the king's horrified gaze.

…

Arthur felt as though the ground had dropped out from underneath him. Merlin's presence was a part of his life, an immutable fact, like the sky being blue and grass being green. Camelot was his kingdom, Gwaine was one of his knights, Merlin was his friend… and Merlin wanted to die. How had he not realised how terribly _wrong_ everything had become? How could he have unknowingly been living in a world which Merlin – somehow, inconceivably – no longer wanted to be a part of? What could possibly have happened to destroy his friend's optimism, his love for life?

"Why on earth would he want to _die_ and _LEAVE ME BEHIND?!_ Without talking to me, or asking for help or even _saying anything?!"_

He realised he was shouting, every tendon in his arms standing out as he stood and slammed his palms onto the table. Gwaine looked up at him, sorrow written in the lines of his face. Arthur stood still for a moment, frozen in place, then took a deep breath in and swiftly deflated, collapsing back into his chair and bringing a shaking hand to his forehead.

The two men sat in silence for a moment, united by their sadness, their concern, and their love for a man who had never given up on them. A man who had helped shape the kingdom, and its king, to establish the Camelot they all dreamed of.

"Why – why would he feel that way?" Arthur asked eventually, his voice thick with emotion.

Gwaine shook his head dully, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

"I can't say. It's not my place to say. But he needs help, and… I'll do what I can, but I'm not enough to save him. He needs you, Arthur."

Arthur drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"He has me", he said, quietly but firmly. "Of course he does. And you. We'll look after him, Gwaine. I promise, I will do everything in my power to keep him safe."

Gwaine nodded wordlessly, swallowing down the lump in his throat, and rose to leave. He paused at the door, looking back at his king and friend. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur raised his head, looking across at his knight. "Thank you for coming to me", he said softly. Then, in a voice so low Gwaine wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it, added,

“I couldn’t bear to lose him.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Arthur?” Merlin’s head was cocked slightly to one side, waiting for the king to continue. His face was a mask of polite curiosity, but the light in his eyes – that same light which had kindled Arthur’s hope during some of his darkest hours – was gone, extinguished. Silently, Arthur vowed that he would reignite that spark no matter how long it took._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: mentions of depression.

“Rise and shine!” Merlin announced cheerfully as he flung the curtains wide open, bathing the room in sunlight. Arthur groaned, stubbornly pushing his face into a pillow to block out the light. He had never been a morning person, and he had had very little sleep the night before – too preoccupied with his worries over Merlin. As the memory of what Gwaine had told him came crashing down on him, Arthur tossed the pillow away and sat up, squinting as the bright light assaulted his eyes.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed, unable to help himself. The servant straightened up, clutching the dirty tunic which Arthur had hastily discarded the previous night, and cocked an eyebrow at the king. Now that he was looking closely, Arthur noted the lilac bruising underneath his friend’s eyes, indicating that it had been some time since he’d had a proper night’s sleep. Merlin’s cheekbones, always prominent, now looked as though they could cut glass. Had he lost even _more_ weight?

It seemed foolish, now that he was really looking, that he had not noticed the drastic change in Merlin’s appearance. Perhaps it was because it had happened so subtly, over a period of several weeks or possibly even months... but no, that was a flimsy excuse. Merlin was his friend, and so far Arthur had let him down. He hadn’t asked how he was feeling, hadn’t done enough to show that he cared, hadn’t looked closely enough to see the pain behind that cheery facade. But that was going to change from now on.

Arthur rolled out of bed and strode across to the table where his breakfast was waiting.

“I have to attend a council meeting this morning, but I’ll take my luncheon in my chambers”, he stated, pushing aside the part of him that wanted alternately to hug Merlin and to shake him, to demand answers and to offer endless apologies for failing his friend. He knew that if pressed, Merlin would clam up and be almost impossible to help. This was one of the most important tasks Arthur had ever undertaken, and he was determined not to make a wrong move – not when a friend’s life was at risk.

The warlock made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgment, straightening Arthur’s sheets and placing the pillow he had thrown back on the bed.

“And I have a training session with the knights this afternoon; I’d appreciate it if you could make sure my sword is sharpened and my chainmail clean.”

Merlin looked up at this, an expression of surprise flitting briefly across his features before he schooled his face back into that awful subservient expression which Arthur would have been pleased with had it come from any servant but Merlin.

“Yes, Sire.”

He was a little taken aback by this response, and then it dawned on him – he was generally far less polite when assigning tasks to his servant. He could have kicked himself – partly for acting differently to his usual self after having been determined to act as normally as possible, and partly because he _should_ have been accustomed to treating his friend with more respect. What did it say about him if his servant was actually surprised to be asked nicely to complete a task, rather than teased, ridiculed or yelled at? Of course, _Arthur_ knew that he had more respect for Merlin than almost any other man in the kingdom, but when he treated Merlin the way he did, it was little wonder that the servant thought otherwise. Arthur’s stomach tightened as he realised that he could have contributed to Merlin’s depression – not just by failing to notice or act on his friend’s recent melancholy, but by making the other man feel undervalued and unappreciated. He pushed his plate of food away, no longer hungry.

“Merlin…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. He could train knights, wield a sword and lead men into battle with ease, but when it came to those he cared about, he had never been good at articulating what he felt. _Caring too much for others is a weakness_ , Uther’s voice whispered inside his mind. _If you give others your affection, your trust, then you give them the power to hurt you._ Arthur shook his head, banishing the unhelpful thoughts. His father had been a strong king, but that did not mean he was always correct. Arthur knew that having people he cared about – Merlin, Guinevere, his Knights of the Round Table – helped to make him stronger and wiser as a king and as a man. These people provided guidance, told him if he was becoming too cocky or rash, informed him of problems among the people, and would follow him through the gates of hell if he asked them to.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s head was cocked slightly to one side, waiting for the king to continue. His face was a mask of polite curiosity, but the light in his eyes – that same light which had kindled Arthur’s hope during some of his darkest hours – was gone, extinguished. Silently, Arthur vowed that he would reignite that spark no matter how long it took.

“Ah… just… tomorrow! I don’t have anything important planned, do I?” He already knew that he didn’t. He had specifically asked Elyan to take his place on patrol, and as he was meeting with the council that morning, there would be no need to convene again the next day.

“Not that I know of”, Merlin replied.

“Good. We’re going on a hunt, just you and me. It’ll be good to get out of the city for a day”, he announced.

“For the entire day?” the servant asked.

“Yes. We’ll leave at sunrise and return late afternoon. Pack provisions, and have the stable hands make sure that the horses are ready”, Arthur instructed.

“Of course, Sire”, Merlin agreed obediently. If Arthur didn’t already know that something was wrong, that response would have been a clear indicator because Merlin _hated_ hunting and was rarely, if ever, what one would describe as obedient.

Merlin gathered up Arthur’s clothes, which had been strewn about the room, and turned to face that King.

“Will that be all for now?” he asked politely.

“Uh… yes. Yes, you can go, Merlin”, Arthur responded, feeling something in his chest tighten slightly. He had no reason to make the servant stay, but he was reluctant to let him out of his sight. _But even when he was in your sight, you still failed to notice what was going on_ , the unpleasant voice in his head whispered.

Merlin nodded, flashing a smile which didn’t reach his eyes, and left silently.

Arthur groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. How had he not _seen_ how badly Merlin was doing? And now that he knew, how on earth was he supposed to fix it?

……………………..

Merlin deposited Arthur’s clothes in the palace laundry and continued on in the direction of the armory. He smiled at those he passed, chatted with some of the other servants, and tried not to think. If he gave his mind free range, he knew it would attack him once more. He had been sleeping less and less, staying awake as long as possible until he passed out from exhaustion, only to have Gaius wake him a few hours later to repeat the same daily routine. It wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ sleep, exactly. But he had found that when he was tired, his mind was less busy, less cluttered with those terrible thoughts which he _knew_ he shouldn’t be thinking, yet was unable to control. Better to be too exhausted to think, than to have those dark thoughts swirling through his head constantly.

He stopped outside the armory, and took a deep breath before stepping through the door. He was greeted with rows upon rows of shining swords, spears and maces. A variety of crossbows rested against one wall, shields against another, and an impressive collection of daggers glinted at him from a stand in the centre of the room.

He made a beeline for Arthur’s sword. It was easily discernible; the golden runes gleaming in the sunlight which spilled into the room through a high window. But here in the armory, surrounded by blades and weapons of every description, he felt those insidious thoughts start to creep back again, breaking through the carefully constructed walls behind which he had hidden them and coming to the forefront of his mind.

He took a deep breath, then reached out and lifted Excalibur, concentrating on the perfect balance of the blade, the beauty of the sword, and the sheer magical power emanating from the weapon – so clear that he found it difficult to believe anyone in close proximity to the dragon-burnished sword could _not_ feel it’s power. It barely needed sharpening, really. Merlin suspected that whatever power the Great Dragon had breathed into it, it had played a role in strengthening the sword itself, making it impervious to harm or such concerns as a dull blade. Arthur rarely used the great sword for training – he worked with a variety of blades and weapons, insistent on himself and his knights being proficient in all types of weaponry so that they would always be prepared for combat – but today would be the first training session for several new recruits, and in these instances Arthur liked to use Excalibur for demonstration. Merlin had served the prince-turned-King long enough to know these things without needing to be asked. He knew almost everything about Arthur, and Arthur knew almost everything about him – except, of course, the most important thing of all.

When he first met the prince, Merlin had disliked him. He had considered him rude, arrogant and condescending – and he was partly right, because Arthur definitely _acted_ that way. But beneath that brash exterior was a brave, noble, loyal man with a heart of gold, who would risk his life for his people. As he became closer to the prince, the servant had begun to hope that maybe one day, he would be able to reveal himself to Arthur, that his friend could see him as he truly was and still accept him. Now, however, he had almost given up hope that that day would ever come. Arthur may have been more tolerant of magic than his father, and Merlin could even conceive of a day when he might lift the ban on sorcery. But that day would never come if Merlin revealed himself as a sorcerer now. He had lied to his friend for far too long. Any admission he made from this point on would only cement any prejudice Arthur felt against magic-users. To find out that his best friend had lied to him for years… the King would never be able to trust magic after that. So Merlin suffered in silence, though every day it felt as though his soul withered a little more, knowing that Arthur’s trust, the freedom of others to use magic, and the future of Camelot itself, were far more important than his selfish desire to share this part of himself with his friend. For the sake of the kingdom, Arthur could never know how much Merlin had done for him. It was far better (or so Merlin believed) that he bear the pain of hiding his true self, rather than inflict pain on those he cared about by revealing the truth.

He could not understand that spread throughout the castle were people who saw the suffering behind those deep blue eyes and ached at it, because all they wanted was to break through that invisible barrier and show their friend how much they cared. But half a castle away sat a stubborn young king – unaware of exactly what was going through Merlin’s mind at that moment, but determined to show his friend just how greatly he was valued.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is determined to talk to Merlin, and try to find a way to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Trigger Warning: this chapter includes mentions of self-hatred and suicidal ideation. Stay safe guys.

Arthur glanced back at his servant, a quiet sigh escaping him. Since they had left the castle, Merlin seemed to have abandoned his cheerful facade entirely. It was as though he no longer had the energy to even pretend he was alright. The purple shadows beneath his eyes seemed even more prominent than they had been yesterday, suggesting yet another sleepless night.

Arthur himself had barely slept, too preoccupied with his thoughts and concerns for his friend. He had played this trip over and over in his mind, imagining every possible scenario and desperately trying to figure out how to help Merlin without causing him to clam up even more or to push Arthur away. Merlin had always been there for him, but any time the servant seemed to be upset or going through a rough time, without fail, he would try to hide his feelings from Arthur or distance himself from the prince – now king – rather than admit what was bothering him. If asked about it, Arthur would have said he found it _annoying_ that his servant would mope about with an expression like a kicked puppy but refuse to tell him why. Truthfully – and this was something he had never said aloud, not even to Guinevere – it _hurt_ when Merlin shut him out. This was a man who Arthur trusted more than any other, who was privy to Arthur’s most private thoughts, worries and insecurities. It seemed… somewhat unfair, really… that after years of friendship, Arthur was not granted that same measure of trust that he gave to Merlin.

At first, the young prince hadn’t realised that his new servant was hiding things from him – and frankly wouldn’t have cared if he had. He was more concerned over whether Merlin could ever become a semi-competent servant than whether the dark-haired boy wanted to talk about _feelings_. Uther’s influence had still been strong at that stage of his life, which meant that Arthur had been operating under the firm belief that any display of concern or uncertainty was unbefitting of a king. To be perfectly honest, he had been acting like a right royal prat due to his deeply-ingrained desire to never reveal a lack of confidence. But Merlin had been the catalyst to change that. Within a few short months, the prince was trusting his servant with his own previously hidden opinions and fears – thoughts which he would never have revealed to any of the ‘friends’ he had amongst the younger nobles, and certainly never to his father. Merlin had played such a large role in encouraging Arthur to open up more and be more trusting that when the prince eventually realised just how cagey the other man could be, it was hard not to be amused by the irony of the situation.

He’d pushed aside his bruised ego, telling himself that friend or not, Merlin was still a commoner, and therefore even if he hid things from Arthur, nothing he was hiding could be that important. It wasn’t as though _Merlin_ was the crown prince, after all. Even as he told himself this, Arthur had known there was some flaw in his logic. Merlin’s status as a commoner perhaps shouldn’t have made his feelings and secrets completely invalid… but it was far easier to pretend that they were than to admit he was upset over his servant not confiding in him. Now, though, Arthur was wishing he’d pushed Merlin to open up a little more, showed him even more clearly that he cared for him and could be trusted with any thoughts, fears or feelings the other man had.

Maybe they could have avoided this situation if he’d done so.

Maybe he would have known when Merlin started to feel as though life was so difficult it wasn’t worth living.

Maybe he would have known how to help him.

He found it easiest to assume that these feelings had only come about fairly recently – he and Gwaine had both picked on the servant’s low mood over the past weeks – but he didn’t know what to think anymore, or what instincts to trust. After so many years of friendship with Merlin, and even after seeing the man at times when he was obviously upset, he had still thought of Merlin as annoyingly cheerful. Apparently, he could not have been more mistaken.

…………………

“There’s a clearing just ahead – we’ll stop for lunch and to give the horses a rest”, Arthur called back over his shoulder. He received no acknowledgement; Merlin staying silent behind him – as though he was already on his way to becoming a ghost. The King shook his head to dismiss the disturbing thought. Merlin was right there with him, and Arthur had sworn to keep him there, safe.

He waited until the horses had been tethered and the wood gathered for a fire before finally broaching the subject which had occupied every corner of his mind of the past few days.

“Merlin?”

The servant glanced up from where he had been occupied making the fire, an unspoken question in his stormy blue eyes. Arthur swallowed.

“I’m worried about you.”

A shadow seemed to pass behind Merlin’s eyes, and Arthur hastened to continue before he could protest.

“You haven’t seemed very happy lately. Not for the past few weeks. I didn’t want to push you because I figured if you wanted me to know what was going on you’d tell me, but it doesn’t seem to be getting any better and… I really am worried, Merlin. Please… is there anything you want to tell me?”

Merlin looked away, fixing his gaze firmly upon the fire he was building. Arthur waited for several long seconds, praying that his friend would give him some kind of explanation. He opened his mouth to try once more, but before he could do so, Merlin spoke:

“I appreciate your concern, Arthur, but I’m fine. Maybe a little tired, but nothing you need to worry about.”

A ball of frustration flared within Arthur’s chest. It seemed Merlin was determined to be uncooperative. But he was lying, and they both knew it.

“That’s not how I see it”, the King responded, working to keep his tone measured and absent of emotion. “It seems like more than just tiredness, Merlin. And as for not worrying – a good servant’s hard to come by, of course I’m going to worry about you!” Merlin did not break a smile, despite Arthur’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“Merlin, please -”

“It’s _nothing_ , Arthur”, the younger man interrupted him, his words punctuated by the sharp _crack_ of a stick as Merlin snapped it in two to place the pieces on the fire.

“Well it doesn’t seem like nothing!” Arthur shouted, his frustration bubbling over in his voice. Unsurprisingly, Merlin didn’t answer.

Arthur sighed heavily then walked a few steps forward, squatting beside his friend.

“I’m sorry Merlin”, he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to shout at you. I just…” He glanced across at the other man, “I know I don’t say it nearly as much as I should – and I know that I tease you a lot – but you are truly my closest friend and I would never want any harm to come to you.”

Merlin let out a shaky exhalation, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as though trying to hide the pain that Arthur knew was there.

“Come on, Merlin”, the king implored him, “I want to _help_ you.”

“You can’t.” The warlock’s words were barely more than a whisper, but Arthur heard and ached at them.

“Why can’t I?” he asked quietly.

Merlin shook his head. His eyes, when he looked at Arthur, were bright with unshed tears. “Because, Arthur, the problem is _me_. Alright? There are certain… responsibilities… which I have to take care of. And I _try_ , I try _so hard_ to complete them, but it’s not enough. _I’m_ not enough. And I don’t think I can be fixed.”

Arthur wanted desperately to tell his friend that he could _never_ not be enough, that he was clever and kind and brave and worthy of so much more than he gave himself credit for, but the words were strangled in his throat.

“Merlin”, he whisper, his voice rough as sandpaper. “Merlin, you don’t need to be fixed. Please don’t ever think that.”

Merlin sniffed, silvery tears now running unchecked down his pale cheeks.

“If you knew, you’d say something different. You wouldn’t be my friend.” For the first time in days he looked Arthur right in the eye, all of the pain, confusion and self-hatred burning within those heartbreakingly blue eyes almost knocking the king over with its intensity.

“Do you know how hard it is constantly having to hide who you are because other people think it’s not right?” he whispered. “Can you imagine how it feels, to have something that you were born with – something that you can’t change even if you wanted to – used against you? Everyone believes that different is wrong, that different is dangerous. I try so hard to fit in, to be what everybody wants me to be. But I _can’t_ , Arthur. I can’t be that person. And it _hurts_.”

Arthur enfolded Merlin in a fierce hug, cradling his now sobbing manservant close to his chest. No words were adequate to soothe the pain his friend was feeling, but Arthur would make certain that from now on, Merlin never went through it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just use Merlin hiding his magic as a metaphor for those in the LGBT+ community, neuro-diverse people, people living with disabilities, and other marginalised groups who are told by society that their differences make them ‘wrong’ or ‘not good enough’. YEP!  
> No matter what society or your brain tells you, our differences can be our greatest assets, and nobody should EVER make you feel ashamed or inferior for being 'different'. Imagine how boring the world would be if everyone was the same!  
> I really hope that anyone who is struggling at the moment knows that you are worthwhile and you are loved, even if sometimes it's difficult to see that. I'd love it if this story could help someone to feel a little less alone.  
> This AN is getting super long, so I'll wrap it up with a quote from one of my favourite movies, 'The Imitation Game':  
> 'Sometimes it's the very people no-one imagines anything of who do the things that no-one can imagine.'  
> So be proud of who you are, get out there and do something amazing! x


	5. Chapter 5

The outline of the castle rose up before them, interrupting the canvas of pink and mauve and burning orange splashed across the sky. The sight always gave Arthur a sense of contentment, of the knowledge that whatever he had faced, he was returning to his home.

He still felt that bloom of warmth in his chest, but it was dampened by something cold and sad. He had spoken to Merlin, and said what he’d wanted to say. He’d shown the other man that he cared, and he was relieved to have been able to do that. But Merlin was very clearly not alright.

It seemed unbelievable that somebody who was so well-liked by almost everyone he met could harbor that level of hatred for himself that he would consider taking his life. Could he not see how other people viewed him? Not see how _incredible_ he was?

Arthur knew that Gwen considered Merlin to be her best friend. He knew that, while Gaius was officially Merlin’s mentor, the old man saw him as a son. He knew that Gwaine loved him like a brother, and that his knights were fiercely protective of him – almost as much as they were of Arthur himself, and they had sworn an oath of allegiance to him!

Merlin didn’t need any oaths to get people to like him, or to want to protect him. He lit up any room he entered, with his wide smile and clumsy manner and those ridiculously large ears of his.

Arthur knew there was a bond between himself and Merlin like nothing he’d felt before. A bond that he acknowledged to himself but was careful not to explore too closely, because even peripherally it seemed too powerful for him to fully comprehend. Merlin had been there for him in the times when no-one else was. He had stood by his side through battle, praised him when his confidence wavered, and insulted him when he was being particularly pig-headed. Nobody else grounded him like Merlin.

But it was more than that. Merlin was the first real friend he’d had, and had helped to make him a better person. Arthur truly, genuinely cared about Merlin. And he needed him to get better.

………………………….

They’d barely spoken since leaving the clearing. Arthur still had questions he wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to push his friend too hard, and risk him closing himself off once more. At least he had been able to show Merlin that he cared, and hopefully that would be enough for the younger man to start opening up to Arthur a bit more. Even though it had been horrible to hear Merlin talk about needing to be ‘fixed’, and about having to hide parts of who he was because he felt he didn’t fit in, Arthur felt like he’d made progress. He had got Merlin to admit he was struggling. And he’d proved that he was there for his friend – that he viewed Merlin as not only worthwhile, but important, special.

He knew it still wasn’t enough. Merlin was clearly hurting a great deal, and seemed to have been dealing with this alone for far too long. If anything, the trip had demonstrated to Arthur, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Gwaine had been correct – Merlin was very far from alright. But like he’d promised the knight, from now on he would be there to support his friend, to help him realise just how loved he was.

…………………………….

They had hunted for a while, not wanting to return to Camelot without anything to show for their day. But Arthur’s heart hadn’t been in it, and it was clear Merlin’s wasn’t either. The servant didn’t enjoy hunting at the best of times, and now he just looked tired and drawn and sad, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Arthur was nearly ready to just give up and head back to Camelot – as they both clearly wanted to – when a large buck stepped out onto the path in front of them. His face broke into a relieved grin. It was almost as though he had summoned the buck just by wishing for it to appear. It was an easy shot, and within minutes he’d secured his prize and turned the horses towards home.

…………………………..

Now, as they approached the citadel, Merlin visibly tensed.

No wonder Arthur lacked his usual relief at returning home, given that his best friend’s feelings were in such direct opposition to his own. _Which wasn’t surprising_ , he supposed, _given what Merlin had said about being unable to ‘fit in’ and needing to hide parts of who he was due to fear of being shunned._

Arthur was curious – of _course_ he was – about what Merlin could possibly be hiding that had him so fearful. Only a few years ago, he would have asked. He had been rather insensitive when he was younger, as even he was now aware. But he knew better now. Merlin had helped him to become better. So while he wondered exactly what his friend was hiding, that was not the most important thing at the moment. The most important thing was helping Merlin to feel safe, valued, and able to trust Arthur with his feelings. The King had let his friend down already by not noticing how unhappy he had become, and he was determined not to fail again – especially as it seemed that Merlin’s life was literally at risk of being taken by his own hand.

“Merlin.”

His voice broke the silence. The servant looked across at him, one eyebrow raising in a silent question. God, he looked like Gaius when he did that. Were they really not related? Arthur shook his head slightly, dismissing that errant train of thought, before speaking once more.

“I know I don’t show it enough… but I do care for you. I want you to be alright. So if there’s ever something that you want to tell me, I promise I will listen.”

Merlin swallowed.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur kept his eyes trained on the castle, thankful that while they were riding side by side, he didn’t have to make eye contact. Merlin may have helped him to be more open and express himself better, but he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with obvious displays of affection.

“If you need – or you want – a few days off, you’re welcome to take them. I can get by with another servant, I’m sure George could –” In his peripheral vision, he noticed Merlin’s jaw tighten and his eyes narrow the tiniest amount.

“Ah – or a different servant – my point is, you can take a few days off if you’d like to. Not that I’m forcing you to!” he added hastily, worried that he may be giving his friend the wrong impression. “If you’d like to continue working I’m happy for you to do so. Just… it’s your choice, okay? If you want to work, great. But if you need some time… you’re welcome to have it.”

Merlin nodded slowly, his expression (when Arthur glanced across at him) unreadable.

“Thank you, Arthur”, he said once more, his voice measured and a little hoarse. “I’ll – think about it.”

Arthur tilted his chin in acknowledgement, and the two of them rode the rest of the way to Camelot in silence.

………………………

It wasn’t until later that night – after the horses had been untacked, groomed and stabled, the deer carcass had been transported to the kitchen, and Arthur had eaten dinner and retired to his chambers for the night – that the servant touched upon their earlier conversation.

“Arthur?” His voice was quiet and hesitant, but Arthur immediately looked up from the paper he had been perusing.

“I, uh…” Merlin’s voice wavered, uncertain. He wanted to thank his friend for what he had said, for making the effort to spend time with Merlin alone and ask him about how he was feeling, for holding him while he cried, for making it abundantly clear that – for some unfathomable reason – the king cared about his servant. But he didn’t know how to say it. And he couldn’t bear to hurt Arthur by acknowledging, once again, just how unhappy he was.

“I think… if it’s alright with you, I might take that day off tomorrow.” He glanced down at the floor, embarrassed to have actually asked. Because he was looking down, he didn’t see the expression of extraordinary gentleness that transformed Arthur’s face. The warmth and affection in his voice when he replied, however, was clear.

“Of course you may, Merlin.”

Merlin looked up once more, to see his king regarding him with a small, fond smile.

“I’ll arrange another servant to take over your duties for the day. You just enjoy your break.” One corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly, into a playful smirk. “You’ll be back polishing my boots in no time.”

Merlin’s face slid into an answering smile – a little stiff, perhaps, but undeniably a smile.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I'm really not happy with this chapter, but I wanted to get something up. I know not much happens in terms of action, but I guess I just really wanted to show how much Arthur cares about Merlin, and wants him to be alright (I think I may have accidentally hinted at Merthur as well - oh well! As Merlin said in the very first episode 'It just happens'). And Merlin finally got a day off! We'll see what he does during that day off in the next chapter.  
> I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are my own.


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